


Then Are the Children Free

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip puts Paul, Norton and Debi in the line of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Are the Children Free

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #14 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"Come on, Colonel, let's hear some complaints over all this fussing."_

 

          The quiet that had settled over the van was peaceful and relaxed.  Ironhorse shifted in the passenger seat, easing his legs out in front of him.  Norton glanced over at the soldier.

          A voice from the back asked, "How much longer before we're in Phoenix?"

          Norton glanced into his rearview mirror and grinned at the van's third occupant.  "Getting excited, Deb?"

          The twelve-year-old gave Norton a long-suffering look.  "No.  It's— We…" she hedged, finally concluding, "I guess so."

          In the passenger seat Ironhorse chuckled.  "It's about two more hours," he told her.

          The two-day road trip would result in an early birthday party for the girl, but Debi didn't know that, yet.  It was a working trip for the four adult members of the Blackwood Project.  While in Phoenix they would be conducting the last in a series of interviews with people who had, in all likelihood, had an encounter of the fourth kind with the alien invaders from Mortax.

          The interviews had started four months earlier, in April, but were suspended after the disappearance of Karen McKinney and several others in the second interview group.  Blackwood had taken Karen's loss hard, but had pulled himself out of his depression and launched himself back into the interviews with renewed conviction.  Whatever had happened to Karen McKinney would only be gleaned from the stories she and the other victims told, of that he was sure.

          Whatever the aliens were up to, the Project members had few substantial clues.  It involved implanting something in their victim's bodies, but the nature of the device and its purpose was a mystery.  The macabre experiment required a six month incubation period between the victim's first encounter and a second, when they disappeared for good.

          Blackwood and Ironhorse both felt responsible for the abductions of the men and women they'd spoken to, but there had been no clue that the aliens might need them for further tests or results.  After Karen's disappearance they looked for the other interviewees, but it was too late.  Three more had already turned up missing, victims of the covert war being fought for control of the planet.

          Blackwood and Suzanne had left their Northern California safe-house with an armed detachment of soldiers from Ft. Streeter, flying to Phoenix two days ahead of Ironhorse and Drake.  They were reviewing the files at the Phoenix safe house and setting up the schedule of interviews to be conducted over the following five days – or so they told Debi.

          What they were really doing was setting up a small but well-supplied surprise birthday party for the girl.  After all, it wasn't everyday a girl turned thirteen and became a teenager.  General Henry J. Wilson was even flying out for the occasion – and to receive a briefing from Blackwood and his niece on the information gleaned from the earlier interviews.

          The colonel had the pair leave California on schedule the day after Suzanne and Harrison.  It would be a two day drive for the threesome, but that would give the others the necessary time.  Ironhorse grinned to himself.  Suzanne had given him strict orders not to arrive before 3 p.m. on B-Day.

          He checked his watch.  They were two hours ahead of schedule.  With a sigh, Ironhorse glanced over at Norton.  Drake's voice-activated wheelchair was locked firmly in place behind the wheel of the van, the tape player was pounding out an upbeat reggae tune, and Norton's fingers were drumming along on the wheel keeping syncopated time.  Ironhorse's gaze slid to the speedometer.

 _No wonder_ , he thought.  Norton Drake simply had no notion of speed limits that didn't include an eight in the tens place.

          Debi squirmed in the back seat.

          Pulling the map off the dash, Ironhorse checked it and frowned.  They had stopped earlier in Quartsite for coffee, the youngster opting for a milkshake to combat the already 110+ degree weather.  He checked the map a second time.  There was nothing but desert between them and Phoenix, except for the Palo Verde nuclear power plant, and it wasn't likely they'd have a coffee shop or gift shop, or any other excuse he could use to slow them down.

          He grimaced.  Suzanne would have his hide if they arrived too soon and spoiled the girl's surprise.

          A paper airplane sailed over Ironhorse's seat and crashed against the windshield in front of him.  He caught the mangled glider.  "Hey, you're not supposed to be flying without a license."  Debi giggled.  "I'm bored.  Mom says I get cranky when I'm bored, just like you."

          Norton snickered.

          Ironhorse sighed.  "I'll have to remember to thank your mother for that," he muttered.

          Unfolding the now wrinkled sheet, Ironhorse re-read the warning and instructions they'd been given when they passed through the Arizona border station.  The weather had been unpredictable, the summer monsoon storms more violent than usual, kicking up severe dust storms before the rains arrived.  The area between Quartsite and Phoenix, as well as that between Phoenix and Tucson, was particularly prone to the great mountains of blowing dust, due to the flat desert and the extensive agricultural fields tucked in around the craggy hills.

          Ironhorse glanced out the window.  At eleven in the morning, the sky was an over-bright blue, with no clouds of any sort in sight.  _Probably nothing to worry about_ , he decided.

          "So, Deb, what do you say we make a trip down to Tucson tomorrow while your mom's working?" Norton asked over his shoulder.

          "Okay," the blonde said, leaning forward in her seat.  "What's down there?  Is it any cooler than here?"

          "Ah, let's see," Drake said, searching his memory.  Tom Barter, a college friend, was from Tucson, and had hauled the computer wiz down on several occasions.  "It is a little cooler, and I remember they have a couple of pretty nice zoos, and they film some TV and movies at Old Tucson—"

          A squeal issued from the back of the van, causing both men to jump.  "That's where they do _Young Riders_!" the teen announced with more enthusiasm than either man thought should be legal.

          "What?" Ironhorse asked.

          "You know," the girl said in a frustrated tone.  "The show with the Pony Express riders?"

          The colonel snorted as he stowed the map on the dash.  "I'll have you know they have some serious flaws in their history, young lady."

          "That's okay, they're all cute."

          "And which one do _you_ like?" Norton asked, smiling over at his companion.  Ironhorse just rolled his eyes.

          "Buck," the girl announced with conviction.

          "What?  Not the really cute-z ones?" Norton teased.

          Debi wrinkled her face and stuck out her tongue, stating her opinion clearly.

          Norton ventured a glance at Ironhorse; it was clear the good colonel didn't know who Buck was…  "Uh, Deb, Buck's the half-Indian one, right?" he questioned innocently.

          "Uh-huh, he's half-Kiowa," she said, a smile reappearing.  "His mother was taken hostage, but she fell in love with the tribe's chief and married him and they had Buck, but she died when he was a baby and the rest of the tribe wasn't real nice to him, but neither were the white people, but the Pony Express riders all like him," she explained without taking a breath.

          Norton watched the Cherokee Special Forces officer blanche, then break into a furious blush.

          "And he's the cutest, huh?" Norton asked.

          Ironhorse leveled an expression that threatened unpleasant violence on the black man.

          "I think so.  He's really cool."

          "I'll just bet he is," Norton said softly.

          Before he could tease Paul further, Debi scooted forward, resting her forearms on the back of Ironhorse's seat.  "Wow, what's that?" she asked, pointing out the passenger-side window.

          "Must be a sub-station for the Palo Verde nuclear power plant," Ironhorse said, looking out at the large, oddly shaped metal structure sitting in the middle of empty desert.  With the long straight highway, it looked closer than it was.  "See all those electrical lines?" he asked.

          "Yeah," Debi replied.

          "The electricity from the power plant gets funneled off in different directions, some of it coming here.  Then this sub-station receives the current and sends it out, probably to all the small communities around here."

          "Do people work there?" she asked skeptically.

          The colonel shot her a questioning look.  "I'd guess it's highly automated, run by computers, but there are probably some people there to monitor things."

          Her forehead wrinkled.  "But where do they all live?"

          That brought a chuckle from the soldier.  "In Phoenix, more than likely.  We're not _that_ far away."

          "Ah, but Debi is a California child, mon," Drake waxed philosophical.

          "What's that?" she asked, not sure she liked the sound of it.

          "Someone who grew up with cities connected to the highways, right?"

          "Sure.  Even in Massachusetts and Ohio there were lots of places around, and lots of things to do.  Not like out here.  There's nothing."

          "There's plenty to do here, too, Debi," Ironhorse said, a slightly wistful tone edging his words.  "Open space can be full of adventure.  Horseback riding, camping, hiking, ghost towns, old Indian sites to explore, and—"

          "Really?  Around here?" Debi asked, her interest captured.

          "Absolutely," Ironhorse said.

          "Can we see some of those, Norton?" she asked.  "Tomorrow?"

          "I don't know if a lot of those places would have wheelchair access for me," he said, "But there's a place in Tucson called the Sonoran Desert Museum and they have some interesting stuff on the Indians who lived around here.  And the State Historical museum on the University campus has some exhibits, too."

          "Cool!" she exclaimed, sliding back in her seat.  "Can we go to those _and_ Old Tucson?"

          "I think that can be arranged, Miss McCullough," Norton said.

          "Can I use the computer to tell mom?"

          "Sure," he said, glancing up to watch as the girl climbed into the back of the van, where a terminal was anchored to a wooden shelf.  It was one of the more exciting toys the Army had given him.  The unit worked off of a series of sophisticated batteries and a small satellite dish mounted on the top of the green machine.

          Debi turned on the machine and waited for it to boot up.  Once she had the prompt, she entered the commanded Norton had taught her, and a greeting, then waited.

          Words began appearing on her screen:   _Hi, sweetheart, it's Harrison.  Your mom's busy at the moment.  Where are you?_

          Debi typed, _Colonel Ironhorse said we are about two hours away.  Can I go to Tucson tomorrow with Norton?_

          There was a pause and then:   _I don't see why not_.

          _Thanks, Harrison_ , the girl replied.  _He says we can see Indian things, and go where they film Young Riders.  Maybe I'll get a chance to see Gregg Rainwater!_

          _Sounds like fun to me_ , Blackwood replied.  _Be sure to check with your mom when you get here, though, or I'll be the one who gets in trouble!  We'll see you soon_.

          "What's that?" Norton asked, stopping Debi's goodbye in mid-sentence.

          The road, following one of its few curves in the trek to Phoenix, eased around the end of a jagged range of hills.  On the other side an ambulance was stopped alongside the road, the front end pointed down off the shoulder into a shallow gully like it had run off the road.

          Norton glanced over at Ironhorse.  "What do you think?"

          The colonel checked his watch.  Since they were early it couldn't hurt to waste a little time.  "Slow down and we'll see if they need any help."

          _We're going to help an ambulance_ , Debi typed into the computer.

          _An ambulance?_ Blackwood replied, the immediate addition sprang onto screen:   _Was there an accident?_

          _I don't think so_ , she replied, her attention split between the screen and the vehicle.  _It's just sitting there_.

          Drake eased off the accelerator, the large green van immediately slowing as they crept up alongside.  In the back, the two paramedics were working over a woman, although what they were doing was impossible to tell.  Both medics looked up at the sound of Norton's short tap on his horn.

          Ironhorse's attention immediately focused on one of the men, his inquiry about their needing help dying in his throat.  He couldn't recall the man's name, but the colonel clearly recognized the face as one of the earlier interviewees who had disappeared like Karen McKinney.  It was equally clear that the man had recognized Ironhorse as well.

          "Go!" he snapped at Norton.

          Norton pressed down on the accelerator, jerking the wheel sharply to the left to put as much distance between them and the ambulance as possible.  He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he knew he didn't like the tone of Ironhorse's voice.

          Ironhorse grabbed the dash for support, leaning into the wild motion as he watched the ambulance in the side mirror.  One of the men exited the back of the vehicle and climbed into the driver's seat.

          "Debi, you all right?" the colonel asked, looking back over his shoulder.

          "I'm okay," she said, still holding onto the computer terminal shelf.  "What's going on?  Why'd we leave like that?"

          "I'll explain later," he said, swiveling in his seat to look out the window and back at the plant.  "Right now you're just going to have to trust me and do everything I tell you, all right?"

          "Okay," she said, a trill of fear making her voice more child-like than usual.

          "Colonel," Norton said, nodding at the rearview mirror.

          The ambulance was following them.

          Ironhorse straightened.

          "Some of our, uh, terrorists?" Norton asked.

          "Yes," was the taciturn reply.

          "Great.  There sure isn't anyplace out here to hide," he mumbled unnecessarily, the usual humor drained out of his voice.

          _We're in trouble, I think_ , Debi typed.

          _What's wrong?_ Blackwood asked back.

          _I think those terrorists you fight are following us in the ambulance._

          Ironhorse watched the medic driving use the ambulance's radio.  There was a good chance that there were other aliens in the area.  He thought for a moment.  Probably at the sub-station.  If the woman he saw was an employee there, there was no telling what the Mortaxans could want with a power plant, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

          "Keep up the speed as long as you can," Paul said, climbing past the seats to join Debi in the back of the van.

          "They're following us?" Debi asked, disliking the talk about terrorists and the sudden seriousness that had settled over the two men.  "Who are they?"

          "Trouble," Norton said, intently monitoring the vehicle in his rearview mirror.  "So far, so good, but they're starting to gain a little."

          "Debi, I want you to get in your seat, put your seatbelt on, lean over, and _stay_ there," Ironhorse said, his voice a calm neutral as he began digging through his assault duffel.

          "But—"

          "We might have to head out into the desert and it'll be bumpy.  Go on," he commanded.  The girl paused for a fraction of a second, but complied.

          Ironhorse extracted his Beretta and checked the clip.  Flipping the safety back on, he tucked it into his jeans.

          "You think they know?" Norton asked.

          "Absolutely, but not enough, which is why they're going to come after us.  Do you think we can outrun them?"

          "Don't know.  The ol' Green machine isn't built for speed, but I've made a few modifications.  I'd say it's fifty-fifty."

          "Hand me the map."

          Norton reached forward and snagged the paper, handing it to Debi, who passed it back to the colonel.

          Ironhorse nodded his thanks, mentally formulating plans.  He checked the map.  "We're too far from Phoenix for help."

          A dull crack sounded, and Norton jerked the wheel.  "They're shooting at us!" he yelled, fighting to control the van.

          Debi squealed, but remained in the position the colonel told her to take.

          "There should be a—"  Ironhorse looked up, his eyes scanning the desert to the south.  "There!  Off to the right," he announced.  "See that trail?  Take it."

          "Out there?  But I—"

          "Take it, Mr. Drake," he ordered, scrambling for the terminal.  _Blackwood?_

          _Here_ , was the reply.

          _Doctor—_ was all Ironhorse could type before:   _Colonel, what's goin—_ appeared.  _We're in trouble_ , Ironhorse typed over Blackwood's incoming message.  _The aliens have located us.  I think they have reinforcements close by, maybe at the Palo Verde sub-station.  We're heading into the desert, northwest of Eagle Trail Park.  Dirt road.  General Wilson can handle details.  We'll have to go mobile.  Chopper would be nice.  I'll head west.  Get here ASAP._

          _On the way_ , came the astrophysicist's reply.  _Be careful!_

          _Right_.  Ironhorse turned the machine off.  Returning to the bag, he rummaged for the mobile phone tucked in its black leather carrying case and pulled it over his shoulder as they bounced along.

 _The cloud of dust the van's churning up will help hide us_ , he thought.  _Slow the aliens down._

          Crawling over to Debi's seat, he glanced down at the girl.  She looked frightened, but managed a wan smile for him.  "It'll be fine," he reassured her, reaching down to pat her shoulder.

          "Sure hope so," Norton said softly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Blackwood turned to find General Wilson standing behind him, reading over his shoulder.

          "I'll get the men and contact Luke Air Force Base about the chopper," the general said, his voice as neutral as his expression.

          Blackwood nodded.  "I'll tell Suzanne and grab our equipment."  He turned, hating what the news would do to the woman.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne had just finished hanging the crepe-paper streamers when Harrison joined her in the safe house living room.  "Harrison, just in time.  Grab some balloons and blow."

          "Uh, Suzanne, we have a problem," he stammered out, gripping the back of one of the dining room chairs for support.

          "What?" she asked, her interest in the bright strips of paper forgotten.

          "We just received a message from Ironhorse.  It seems the aliens found them, and they're—"

          "Aliens?  Out on the highway?  What—?"

          "They were in an ambulance, the colonel must have recognized them, or they recognized him."

          "My God, Debi," Suzanne said, fear for her daughter's safety swamping her.

          "She's with Ironhorse, Suzanne.  He'll protect her," Blackwood quickly reassured as he stepped up to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

          General Wilson entered, looking grim.

          "Uncle Hank, Debi—"

          "I know.  I called the Air Force Base.  They're picking up a dust storm on their weather system.  It's being pushed this direction by a severe thunderstorm.  The choppers are grounded.  We're on our own until the storms pass.  I gave the base the coordinates and they have chopper crews on stand-by to take off as soon as possible."

          "But we can't leave them out there alone that long!" Blackwood protested.

          "I know, Doctor.  We're leaving now."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The dust was a mixed blessing, forcing Norton to squint as he tried to make out any obstacles that might be in their way as he continued further out into the desert.  It was no longer possible to tell if the ambulance was following them.  Ironhorse was busy in the back of the van, arranging weapons and what else the computer expert wasn't sure.

          Norton pulled the wheel back when it fought itself out of his control and prayed that the colonel knew what he was doing.  He also hoped they didn't get bogged down, because his wheelchair wasn't going to get anywhere in the loose sand.

          With a loud cry and rending groan the van glanced off some unseen obstacle.  The impact was sudden and violent and Norton felt the bumper give way as he was slammed into the steering wheel.  The momentum pitched them savagely to the side and the van rolled.  Debi remained in her seat, secured by the seatbelt, but Ironhorse, with no anchor, tumbled in the back, hitting the terminal shelf before slamming into the back of the girl's seat.  The Green Machine, rolling back onto its wheels, issued a groan and died.

          "Deb, you okay?" Norton gasped as he gently pushing himself back up and rubbed his chest.  "Debi?"

          "I'm okay," she said, brushing the blonde hair out of her eyes and trying to orient herself.  They were upright, but she was sure they had rolled over at least once.

          "Colonel?" Drake called, straining to see into the back of the van, "Paul?" he repeated, this time with more force.  He gingerly continued rubbing his fingers over his chest; it felt like an elephant had sat on him.

          "Yeah, I'm here," the colonel said airily, carefully sitting up.

          "Are you okay?" Debi asked, unhooking her seat-belt and joining him on the floor of the van.  She pulled back for a moment when her knee landed in a puddle of water.  "What's that?"

          "Spare water we were carrying in case we overheated," Ironhorse said, taking stock.

          He had bumped his head, but it didn't feel serious, even if his fingers did come away slightly damp with blood.  At least it wasn't bleeding.  He tested along his ribs where he'd fallen into the terminal shelf; probably bruised, but they weren't broken.  He felt a dull throbbing pain in his right upper thigh and looked down, catching sight of the injury at the same time Debi did.

          "You're bleeding!" she said, not sure if she should try to help, or run.

          "It's just a cut," he reassured her in a calm tone.  Glancing up at Norton, Ironhorse knew the black man hadn't missed the concern he was trying to hide.  Fishing a first aid kit out of his assault bag, Ironhorse pressed a square of dressing on the bleeding wound, wrapping the trailing ends around his leg and tying them down.  The wound didn't feel that deep, but then it was still partly numb.

          "You sure it's okay?" Drake asked, watching Ironhorse grimace as he cinched the bandage tight.

          "It'll have to be.  We have to move, people," he announced, sliding the side door open and climbing out.  He was ready in case the aliens were closer than he thought, the Uzi resting steady in his hands.

          Only dust swirled up around them, slowly dissipating in the hot morning sun.  He motioned to Debi and she scrambled out, but stayed close behind him.  Norton, leaned back in his voice-activated wheelchair.  "Ol' Gertrude isn't going to take to the sand too well, Colonel."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "I know."  Scanning the desert, he spotted a small outcropping of rocks.  He turned back to Norton.  "I'm going to put you over there by those rocks with a weapon, while I rig up something.  Okay?"

          Norton nodded, knowing they were in danger out in the open, especially with the armed aliens behind them.  Unstrapping his legs, Drake waited for Ironhorse to walk around the van and lift him out.

          He patted the arm of the wheelchair.  "Hang in there, Gertrude, I'll be back…  Whoa, is this a good idea?" he asked when he felt Ironhorse's injured leg give slightly.

          "I'm fine, Mr. Drake," Ironhorse said as he carried Norton over to the shade of the rocks, set him down and handed over the Uzi.  "Debi, I want you to stay here in the shade with Norton.  I'll be ready in few minutes."  Looking at the black man, he said.  "If you see anything, fire off a burst."

          Debi dropped down on her knees beside Norton, who reached out and patted her leg.  "Be careful," he said as Ironhorse returned to the van.  "And hurry."  He shifted the Uzi, the feel of the weapon unfamiliar, but comforting.

          Ironhorse climbed inside, drawing the side door shut.  Norton and Debi watched the battered vehicle as several minutes passed, knowing that it must be getting unbearably hot inside without the air conditioner.  Looking up at the bright sun, Norton guessed it was already over 110 degrees, and it wasn't even noon.  He remembered the radio newscaster calling for a high of 115 in Phoenix.

          The door re-opened and the colonel tossed out the paneling that had covered the sliding van door and jumped out after it. Norton watched in fascinated silence as Ironhorse used his battle baton to stab holes into the plastic material.  He mentally grinned at the name of the foot-long double-edged weapon.

          Using the black electricians' tape from the toolkit, Ironhorse reinforced the holes he'd made, then threaded a length of rope from his arsenal bag through them.  Paul took the duffel whenever they traveled, and for the first time, Norton fully appreciated why the man carred it, even if they were just driving into town for dinner.         A few quick knots and the colonel had a rope harness ready.  He completed his work by wrapping clothes pulled from his suitcase around the hemp and hauling the contraption and arsenal bag over to the pair.

          "Ready to go?" Ironhorse asked, wiping away the sweat dripping down his face and giving the pair a hopeful smile.

          Norton looked confused.  "Go?"

          "Army sleigh, Mr. Drake," Ironhorse informed him, slipping out of the crude harness and moving Norton onto the paneling.  Lashing the duffel at the end of the piece of plastic, Ironhorse was able to help the paraplegic brace his feet against the bag.

          Once Norton was settled, Ironhorse pulled the t-shirts he'd tucked under his belt free and fashioned headgear for the pair and himself.  The makeshift hats added comic relief, and afforded some protection from the sun.  When he'd finished Drake held the Uzi out.

          "Keep it, watch our backs," Ironhorse said, slipping the ropes over his shoulders.

          "You got it," the black man said.  "But how long can you drag me around out here?"  He knew that the rope was going to cut painfully into the man's shoulders.

          "As long as it takes," the colonel said with an air of certainty.  "General Wilson and the troops are on their way."

          "Glad to hear it."  Norton rearranged his legs slightly so he could sit up straighter.  He hated the fact that the soldier was going to have to drag him through the hot desert, with an injured leg to boot, but there wasn't an option; he didn't have any desire to be alien bait.

          Ironhorse started off at an angle to the van, leading them toward the end of a series of low hills in the near distance.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Reaching the base of the low brown hills, Ironhorse started up, ignoring the pain in his leg and the burning in his lungs.

          Debi led the way, trying to find the flattest trail.  Turning often to watch the progress of the two men, she chewed her lip and forced herself to remain quiet so she wouldn't interrupt Ironhorse's concentration.

          "Is this really a good idea?" Norton asked after listening to Ironhorse pant for breath.

          "Can't see… what might be following us…unless we get above them," Ironhorse explained, his feet slipping in the loose rocks and dirt.

          He and Norton slid back down the hill several feet before Ironhorse was able to dig his feet in and stop, the effort doubling him over.

          Debi scampered back down and helped the colonel as he climbed to his feet, trying to ease the weight a little as they started back up the hillside together.  "Thanks, Deb," Ironhorse wheezed.

          Drake was finding it harder to breathe in the oppressive dry heat, and marveled at the colonel's stamina as he continued, waving Debi on ahead again.  But it couldn't last.  And regardless of what the man said, Norton knew the shallow breaths Ironhorse was taking were not "fine."

          "Won't we be stuck up here if they're close?" Drake questioned.

          "If we have to," Ironhorse panted, "we'll go down the other side… circle off to the west."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Nearly a half-hour later they reached the top of the small hills.  Norton looked down at his watch:  twelve-thirty.  They had been on the move for an hour and twenty minutes and his head was starting to pound from the heat.  He blinked.

          "Drink," Ironhorse instructed, shaking the container he was holding in front of Drake's face.

          Norton didn't need a second invitation and savored the warm, plastic tasting water like it was a little sip of heaven.  He sighed contentedly and handed the container back to the soldier, who passed it to Debi.

          "Three or four swallows," Ironhorse told her.

          When she finished, Drake watched carefully to make sure Ironhorse took his portion as well.  The vigilance was not lost on the soldier.

          Paul moved to the top of the rise, Debi following.  "Look!" she whispered, pointing down to the flat they'd crossed when abandoning the van.

          Ironhorse nodded.  He saw the sunlight reflecting off the ambulance two hundred yards farther back from the Green Machine.  The aliens' vehicle was also in bad shape, its front end wedged into a crevasse between two rock formations that jutted up from the flat desert floor, but it was what he saw beyond the vehicle that caused him to tense.  "Damn it!" he hissed.

          "What?" Norton asked, trying to turn around on the panel.

          "Duststorm's building up across the valley," Ironhorse said, then chuckled softly.  "But the terrorists seem to have had the same problem we did.  They're on foot, heading the right direction."

          "Terrific," Drake said.  "So. what do we do now?"

          "What's that?" Debi asked, pointing off at another small plume of dust rising into the air.

          Ironhorse had seen it, but preferred not to worry the pair with what it meant.  "Too soon for our people…  I'd say it's backup troops called in by the guys in the ambulance," he admitted.

          "Let's think positive, Colonel," Norton countered, clutching the Uzi tighter.  "Maybe it's just folks on the way to do some off-roading."

          "I hope you're right, Mr. Drake," Ironhorse said, slipping back down behind the top of the hill.  He motioned for the girl to do likewise.  "Deb, I want you to stay here with Norton, I want to make sure they're on our trail."

          "What?" Norton said – the heat must finally be getting to the man.

          "Later, Mr. Drake," Ironhorse said, climbing up to another location where he could split his attention between the map he'd brought along and the two aliens.

          His enemies were on foot, unencumbered, and armed with semi-automatic revolvers, as far as Ironhorse could tell.  He could wait for them to get within range and try to take them out with the Uzi, but, he thought, checking the moving the dust cloud, their companions were coming.  _Must be an all-terrain vehicle_ , he decided.

          The soldier's attention returned to the slowly massing wall of dust.  It was already a good 500 feet tall and stretched half the length of the desert valley.  He swore softly.  They were going to get caught in the storm and right on the heels of the dust would be an Arizona monsoon thunderstorm, pushing it along.  He checked his watch.  The choppers would be grounded until both passed, and if it should happen to stall over them ground troops wouldn't get to their location for another hour.

          No choices.  He had to make sure Norton and Debi stayed safe, and out in the open they were targets.  If the aliens had more than one vehicle…  If they caught up to them…  If they blended with either Norton or himself…

          Ironhorse scampered down from the crest a couple of yards and began a rapid search along the hillside, favoring his right leg, which had started throbbing in increasingly sharp pain.

          The broken landscape created natural nooks and crannies, and Ironhorse wanted one large enough to conceal a grown man.  On the rise Norton would be safe from any flooding the coming rain might cause, and, in the right location, he would also be protected from the dust.  The rise wasn't the best choice for thunderstorms since lightning could arc into the hiding place, but there were going to be trade-offs regardless of location.

          It took a few moments before the colonel found what he wanted.  Ironhorse stopped short when he spotted a dark cool shadow that told him there was a pocket in the rocks.  He moved closer, checking for any native inhabitants of the desert that might take offense to sharing their home with the computer expert.  Finding nothing, he made his way back to Norton and Debi.

          "Okay, here's the plan," Ironhorse explained, wiping the sweat off of his face.  The sharp red-bronze features were starting to burn, but he ignored the sting.  "Norton, I'm going to conceal you up here—"

          "You're leaving me behind?" Drake asked, a flash of fear crossing his face, followed closely by a cold determination.  "I don't—"

          "Listen to me," Ironhorse said.  "I have to ensure that you and Debi are safe, and I can't do that dragging you around out here in the open.  You're staying here.  I'll replace your weight with some rocks, just in case any of our 'friends' know anything about reading tracks."  Ironhorse rummaged in the duffel, pulling out the mobile phone in its black carrying case.  "Wait about forty minutes, then call Blackwood every ten."

          Drake thought for a moment, then nodded.  He still wasn't happy, but the colonel's plan made enough sense to convince him to go along.

          "Wait here, Debi," the colonel said as he reached down, scooped Norton up and carried him back to the niche he'd located in the rocks.

          Norton studied the hiding place suspiciously.  "Nice accommodations, Colonel.  Who does your decoration?"

          "Mother nature," he replied.  "But I checked to see if any of her children were already there."

          "I appreciate that," Norton said, as he was lowered down slowly enough for him to maneuver his legs in so he could sit comfortably.  "Wouldn't want to spend too much time with a rattlesnake, or scorpion, or—"

          "Just remember, you're bigger than they are," Ironhorse said, handing Drake the Uzi and a water canteen.

          "But they're meaner than I am."

          "I know it won't be comfortable, but you'll be safe," Ironhorse said, forced to wipe his face again.  Ignoring the pain in his leg and the lightheadedness that was beginning to build, the colonel grabbed several rocks and began constructing a blind, adding brush and dirt to complete the effect and to provide Norton with some much appreciated shade.  "You have the phone, water, Uzi – if you need it – and, here," he said, pulling out the map he'd shoved into a back pocket, "I'll take Debi with me to this point… here," he explained, slipping a pen from the pocket of his shirt and marking the paper.  "When you get Blackwood, they'll be able to triangulate on you if they can't follow the tracks in.  Once they get here, give them this."

          Taking the proffered map, Norton wedged it safely down along his legs.  "Be careful, huh?"

          "Always," Ironhorse said with a small smile.  "If that dust storm hits before they get here, cover your mouth with your shirt, keep your eyes shut, and take shallow breaths so you don't inhale too much dirt."

          "Right," Drake said, his lack of enthusiasm for the prospect clear in the tone.  He grew more serious.  "I won't let them get this information, Colonel."

          Ironhorse's dark gaze locked on Norton's.  "I know.  You're the key here, Norton.  Get ahold of Blackwood and the soldiers, give them the map and it's all over."

          "I will," Drake said.  "Now, get movin'."

          Ironhorse left the computer expert tucked away, carefully erasing as much of his trail around the hiding place as possible.  An expert tracker might find the niche, but the colonel was counting on the aliens not having one among them.  An assumption, he knew, but there was no way he could outrun the invaders once the vehicle reached the other pair.  At least Norton stood a good chance of surviving.  Now it was Debi's turn.

          "Can I help?" the girl asked as Ironhorse began gathering up rocks and piling them up behind his assault bag on the drag.

          "Why don't you take some of that dried creosote and erase all our footprints?"

          "Like on TV?"

          "Just like on TV," he said, giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.  "You're doing just fine, Debi."

          The girl's arms and face were turning a rosy-pink, and she was moving a little sluggishly.  He needed to get her to cover a soon as possible.  Once he was sure the aliens were headed away from her, he could work on a more offensive maneuver.

          Bending over to pick up more rocks, Ironhorse swayed.  He took a deep breath, fighting back a mild wave of nausea.  If he could hold out that long.  The bump on the head was making itself known, throbbing painfully, and his leg was keeping up a matching counter-rhythm.  He was also getting dehydrated.  The bleeding had continued, albeit reduced, but that, coupled with the excessive sweating generated by pulling the drag had left him in worse shape than he liked.

 _Please, Grandfather_ , he implored.  _Just give me the strength to make sure Debi's safe._

          The girl set to work, finishing just as Ironhorse decided he had about half Drake's weight on the drag.

          "Let's go, Deb.  It's time I found you a place to hide, too."

          "But I want to stay with you," she said in a frightened voice.

          "You have to be brave right now, sweetheart, just like Norton, okay?"

          He wished he could leave her with Drake, but it would be too obvious if her tracks just disappeared.  She nodded, but he could see her lower lip start to tremble.

          "You can imagine you're out here with, what was his name… Buck?"

          Debi nodded, a small smile lighting her face and erasing some of the fear.

          He shrugged on the harness and started off.  "You two have to hide while a band of bandits pass by, then you can come out and escape back to the Pony Express station.  Okay?"

          "Okay," she agreed, reaching out to steady Ironhorse as he stumbled slightly.

          He was getting weaker, and the first distant twitches heralding muscle cramps began in his legs and shoulders.  Shifting the ropes on his shoulders, he leaned into the weight and pressed on, keeping an eye on the girl.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Wilson studied the unfolded map lying in his lap.  The soldier driving the jeep kept up the accelerated speed, pushing the vehicle as hard as he dared in the desert heat.  In the back seat, Suzanne and Harrison maintained a silent vigil on the bleak landscape.  It was almost one-thirty, and already 116 degrees.  They were going to break a record before the day was over.

          Blackwood reached out and squeezed the woman's shoulder.  Suzanne shook her head, the tears standing in her eyes glinting in the light.

          "Just up ahead," Wilson said.  "There should be a dirt road that leads off to the southwest, watch for that."

          "Yes, sir," the sergeant responded.

          "How can they hide out there?" Suzanne asked.  "There's nothing."

          "Not around the road," Wilson assured her,  "but in there…"  He nodded to the Sonoran desert.  "…are plenty of places _if_ you know where to look, and Ironhorse is an expert."

          "I know," she replied, wiping a tissue across her eyes.  "I'm just worried about them."

          "Me, too," Blackwood told her, giving her shoulder another squeeze, "But the colonel knows what to do."

          "There it is, sir," the soldier said, slowing and making the turn off the highway and onto the dirt road.  The two jeeps following them with additional soldiers did likewise.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Over there!" Blackwood yelled, pointing at the two crashed vehicles.

          The sergeant bypassed the ambulance and headed directly for the Green Machine, pulling up alongside.  The foursome exited the jeep, the sergeant and Wilson drawing their revolvers just in case.

          "Stay here," the general commanded the two civilians.

          After a quick check to ensure that it was safe, and Wilson ordered the soldiers to investigate the area and set a perimeter.

          "Report," he commanded when the sergeant returned.

          "Sir," the soldier said, snapping to attention.  "The ambulance and the van are both deserted.  It appears that the van rolled over once.  There was some blood in the back, so there's at least one injury.  The paneling is missing from the door, and it looks like it was dragged off toward the west.  There was enough weight on it to be a man.  There are also tracks of two individuals from the ambulance following, and fresh signs of an all-terrain vehicle following the two on foot."

          "Thank you, Sergeant.  Get the men ready to move out."

          "Yes, sir."

          Wilson turned to explain his intentions to Blackwood and Suzanne, but was silenced by the warble of the mobile phone the astrophysicist was wearing.

          Harrison snatched the instrument out of its case. "Blackwood," he said anxiously, pivoting to scan the landscape.

          _"Doc, yeah, it's about time you answered the phone,"_ came Norton's relieved voice.

          "Where are you?" Harrison demanded.

          _"In a hole, to tell you the truth.  How about you?"_

          "At the van."

          _"Ah, then you're about an hour and twenty away as the drag bounced,"_ the man said, adding, _"It's got to be close if the phone's working.  Look for some hills off to the west."_

          Harrison spotted them, the low, ragged formation the only one close enough to account for the communication.  "We're leaving now, we'll follow the trail the colonel left and keep checking in," Blackwood said.  "Where are Debi and Ironhorse?"

          _"They went on.  Find me and I'll explain,"_ Drake said, the transmission cracking.

          "We're on the way."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse checked his watch, then pushed a strand of sweat- sodden black hair off his forehead.  His hand was shaking, but he couldn't worry about that now.  He was getting more than a little anxious about finding Debi a place to hide.

          Another ten minutes and he'd reach the spot he'd marked on the map; a small but hard to miss, flat-topped hill.  He studied a craggy little outcropping about halfway up and wondered if he could make the climb.  His legs had started cramping, but so far it wasn't enough to stop him.

          A gust of wind whipped by the pair and Ironhorse swayed, nearly losing his balance.  He smiled down at Debi when she reached out to steady him.  The dizziness was increasing, along with the headache and nausea.  Heat exhaustion.  Ironhorse knew the symptoms, but there just wasn't time to worry about a cure, not until Debi was safe.

          "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice reminiscent of her mother's.  "You look sort 'a pale."

          "I'm fine," he reassured her.

          "But you feel cold," she told him, confused.  It was too hot for anyone to feel cold.

          He nodded.  "It'll be fine, Deb.  We just have to worry about finding a good hiding place, now.  Okay?"

          She nodded, but she wasn't happy about it.

          Ironhorse abandoned the drag and started up the incline toward the outcropping.  Pausing he checked the aliens' progress; they were still following, having bypassed Norton.  He checked the dust plume – the reinforcements had nearly reached the two aliens on foot, and before long the whole group would be mobile.  He was out of time.

          The rougher ground of the hillside would stop even the land rover.  He checked the darkening sky.  It was becoming a race to see what reached them first, the aliens or the dust storm.  Ironhorse bit back a moan as his legs seized up again, dragging him down to his knees in the dirt, but he forced himself to stand and continue.  Beside him Debi followed closely.

          She was a real trooper, he thought.  She was scared, hot and tired, but she hadn't complained.  Suzanne had raised a fine daughter and it strengthened his resolve to ensure that nothing happened to her.

          The colonel's abrupt stop brought the girl's head up and she managed not to collide with him.  "What?" she asked.

          "I think we've found that hiding place," he said, handing her the canteen.  "Okay, here we go."

          "But—"

          "It'll be fine.  You just have to hide for a little while.  Norton will tell your mom and Dr. Blackwood where we are and they'll be on their way with some soldiers," Ironhorse said, praying that he was right and that everything had gone the way he wanted.

          Not for the first time the officer wished he had his own unit under his command.  If he had, he doubted any of this would have been necessary.  They could have dealt with the aliens in the ambulance and ended it right there.

          Ironhorse took Debi's hand and led her up the loose rock.

          The location was perfect:  a formation shaped like a funnel had directed a steady stream of sand and wind at a larger boulder for many years, carving out a hole big enough to hold the girl.  "There," he pointed.  "Can you wiggle down into that?"

          Debi nodded and climbed down, easing herself into the space.  It was a perfect fit.  Ironhorse smiled and nodded.   It only took a few minutes to build a stone barrier between her and the desert.  As he neared the end of the task, he stopped and pulled his handkerchief from his rear pocket and passed it to her.  "Debi, listen to me," he told her seriously.  "No matter what happens, or what you hear, or what you think you hear, you have to promise me you'll stay put until I come back for you."

          She looked up at him, her blue eyes filling with tears.  "I'm scared," she whispered.

          "Me, too."

          "You're scared, too?"

          "A little, but I'll be a lot less scared if you'll promise me you'll stay right here until I come back for you," he coaxed.

          "What if my mom or Harrison comes?" she asked, wiping at the tears.

          "Of course that's okay, but just one of the three of us."

          She nodded.

          "If the dust starts to get too thick, I want you to wrap or hold that cloth over your mouth, close your eyes, and stay put.  Promise?"

          "I promise," she said, clutching the square of cloth.  "Where are you going?"

          "I'm going to lead those men away from here, then I'll double back."

          "Okay, but if you get hurt," she said, her blue eyes locking on his black, "I'm going to be mad."

          "I'll try not to, sweetheart," Ironhorse said, closing the rest of the space.  Reaching down, he tossed dirt over the stacked stones, making the formation look more natural.  He grabbed several tufts of desert grass and stuck it into the pile and added a broken piece of prickly pear.

          Deciding that he couldn't do anything else, Ironhorse returned to the drag, half-sliding, half-falling down the slope and shrugged the harness on.  The wind was picking up, and he hoped the track wouldn't be erased before the aliens could follow it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Norton!" Blackwood yelled, jumping from the jeep.

          "Over here!" echoed out of the desert.

          "Keep talking, Norton!" Suzanne yelled.  "We can't tell what direction."

          The soldiers fanned out and Norton started what promised to be a long monologue.  "I sure hope you guys brought some water, and sunburn lotion, and—"  Drake peered past the blind and waggled the Uzi at the astrophysicist, who was holding out a Geiger counter to see if he was still human.  "And a pillow, 'cause it is real hard just sittin' here."

          Blackwood grinned, holding his comments until two of the soldiers worked Norton out of the hole and checked him over for injuries.  One of them handed him a canteen and he drank several wet swallows before sighing heavily.  "That's just what I needed."

          "Is Debi hurt?" Suzanne asked when she reached him.

          "No, she's fine," Norton said, reaching out to the woman's offered hand and giving it a squeeze.  "The colonel cut his leg.  I don't know how bad it is.  He was in the back when we rolled.  He said he was fine, but you know how he is."

          Suzanne sighed in relief that Debi hadn't been hurt, but she immediately began to worry about Paul.  If he were seriously hurt and collapsed out in the desert…

          General Wilson joined them, talking quietly to two of the soldiers.

          "Here," Norton said, handing over the map.  "The big guy said he was taking Debi to the spot he marked.  But there were at least two al— terrorists following us and more on the way."

          "Colonel Ironhorse's ploy worked perfectly.  They didn't even bother climbing up the hill," Wilson said, joining the civilians.  He took the map from Harrison.  "Good.  Let's move, people."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          His shoulders, legs and arms cramping, Ironhorse was forced to abandon the drag.  He was a good fifteen minutes away from Debi, and the ploy had worked just like he wanted it to.  The aliens had continued following the tracks from the drag, but now the storm and the enemy were both rapidly closing in on him.

          Wishing he'd been carrying another canteen, Ironhorse tried to lick his dry, cracked lips, but there was no moisture left in his mouth.  He dropped to his knees in the rough sand as another bout of dry heaves hit, squeezing his already bruised ribs in an agonizing vice.

          Fighting the dizziness, Ironhorse stood and dumped the rocks off the drag.  Tossing the paneling into a shallow wash, he climbed in after it and wedged it up against one bank, high enough for a man to hide under.  Pushing dirt up against the bottom to keep it from being blown away left him winded, and he collapsed to lie in the dry wash, his breathing reduced to a fast, shallow sucking.

          Rolling away from the work, he silently cursed the wind that swept away any sound of his enemy's vehicle.  Ironhorse kept moving, digging through the assault bag until he located the grenade and twine he wanted.  In less than a minute the structure was booby-trapped.  Staggering up the wash, Ironhorse pulled himself out, reasserted his slipping grip on the duffel's straps and headed away from the trap.

          The dust in the air was growing thicker and Ironhorse knew he had to find shelter or be stuck out in the storm when it hit.  The grit filled his ears and occasionally choked him, but he stumbled on, wondering if Norton had been able to raise Blackwood.  Had the astrophysicist and the soldiers found the black man and gotten the map?  Had they found Debi?

          The ground suddenly disappeared under Ironhorse's feet and he fell into a deeper wash cutting through the flat desert floor.  It took two tries for him to pull himself out, and when he cleared the top he immediately pressed down into the dirt, panting for breath.  Small explosions of white and yellow went off in front of his eyes, but it wasn't enough to blind him to the Land-Rover pulling up to the rigged shelter.

          Ironhorse eased himself back over the edge of the wash, digging in with his toes so he could continue to watch.  Two of the aliens climbed toward the booby-trapped shelter, the other three waiting in the car.

          The explosion sent a sharp stab of sound out over the desert, and Ironhorse grinned evilly.  The remaining three aliens hastily exited the Rover and spread out along the wash, holding their weapons before them and looking for signs of the three humans.

          Ironhorse's attention, focused on the invaders, allowed him to ignore the increasing rush of wind blowing against his back until a blast of dust pelted him, swirling up around his face and cutting off his air.

          Dropping back into the wash Ironhorse stripped off his shirt and cut one sleeve free, tying it over his mouth.  Ripping another strip free he tied it around his head, covering his eyes and allowing him to continue squinting behind the thin material.  The dust storm raged on, choking the air and turning the bright afternoon desert an eerie yellow-grey.

          Ironhorse edged up to the lip of the wash again, looking for the three, and found them scrambling back into the Land Rover.  Ironhorse grinned behind the cloth.  At last, a lucky break.  He was due.

          Using the wash as cover, he staggered between the narrow banks for several yards, then looked back over the lip.  The Rover was closer and the three aliens were sitting inside, probably talking about what they should do next.

          Opening the assault bag, he removed two grenades.  His hands trembled more violently as he closed the bag and left it in the wash while he slithered over the edge and crawled forward.

 _Please, Grandfather_ , he implored silently.  _Just a little more time._

          Holding the handles down, Ironhorse pulled the rings free, and ignoring his protesting body, gathered himself on his knees.  Rising, he lobbed the two grenades, then turned and dove back to the cover of the wash as gunfire rang out.  He felt the bite as a bullet nicked the top of his shoulder, burning the skin.

          The explosion roared across the desert, competing with the storm for a moment before it was just the brush of sand passing over sand that could be heard.

          Ironhorse watched the flames in the interior of the Rover.  It was over.  The aliens were dead.  Easing down alongside the bank, he waited.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi sucked in shallow breaths like she'd heard Ironhorse tell Norton to do, wishing that the handkerchief would stop more of the fine dusk from slipping into her mouth.  A stab of worry made her wonder what Ironhorse was using to protect himself.  He was out in the howling wind and sand alone, hurt, with those men—

          She felt the tears start.  Where was he?  Where were her mother and Dr. Blackwood?  Shouldn't they have found her by now?

          What if no one found her?

          Distorted sounds beyond her barricade caused her to press back farther into the dark space, fear mounting.  Why were there terrorists after them anyway?  What if they found her?  What if—?

          "Debi!"

          The girl's blue eyes cracked open.

          "Debi!"

          "Mom?" the girl called out, then coughed as the dust was sucked into the back of her throat.

          "Debi!"

          "Mom!" she yelled, kicking out at the wall of rocks protecting her.  They fell away, sweeping in a small whirlwind of sand that choked the youngster and stung her eyes.  She felt hands pulling her out of the hiding place, but it was impossible to open her eyes or talk.  Someone was carrying her, running.

          Panic wrapped itself around her chest.  "Mom!" she choked out, remembering her promise to the colonel.  She struggled, her fists pounding on shoulders with what force she could manage.

          "I'm here, Chicken," Suzanne said, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on the girl's arm.

          Sliding into the jeep, Debi found herself wedged between Norton and her mother.  Coughing, she took the canteen the computer expert handed her with a big smile.  "Well, howdy, little lady," Drake drawled.

          "Where's the colonel?" Debi rasped.

          Norton tried to maintain the smile, but it faded.  "We don't know, yet.  But as soon as the dust storm passes, we'll find him."

          "Are you okay?" Suzanne asked, giving her daughter a hug as she inspected the girl for injuries.

          "I'm okay," she said, wiping the tears off her sunburned cheeks.  "Who found me?"

          "I did," Blackwood said from the front seat.  "That was a very good place to hide, too."

          "The colonel found it," she said, rubbing the dirt off her face.

          "You've had quite an adventure, young lady," General Wilson commented, from behind the wheel of the jeep.  He reached back and patted her leg.

          "I can't believe Paul would just leave her out here like this," Suzanne said, anger beginning to mount as the storm grew worse.

          Blackwood hooked an arm around the back from the passenger seat and squeezed the microbiologist's arm.  "It was the best move," he said softly, catching the woman's gaze.  "He led them away from her, and got her out of the storm."

          Suzanne shivered.  The aliens not only took over human bodies to gain the host's knowledge, but they could also extract information in another way – by somehow inserting three fingers into the victim's skull and directly tapping what they wanted to know.

 _My God_ , she thought, understanding the scope of the situation for the first time.  Paul knew where Norton and Debi both were.  He'd led the aliens off, but if he…

          She paled.  _He'd kill himself before he'd let then take him_ , she realized.  A new fear welled up in the woman, and she saw it reflected in Blackwood and Norton's eyes as well.  They couldn't lose him now.

          A rumble echoed across the desert, competing for a moment with the howling wind.

          "What was that?" Blackwood asked, turning back around to stare out the windshield into the blowing sand.

          "I'd say an explosion, Doctor," Wilson told him softly, a slight smile lifting his lips.

          "Explosion?" Drake said.  "More like thunder, I'd say."

          "Mom, look," Debi said as the sun suddenly burst across the desert, followed immediately by the dark shadows of thunderheads rolling in behind the dust.  A bolt of lightning spiked from the black cloud to strike a nearby hilltop, the resulting thunderclap making their ears ring.

          "Whoa!" Norton said.  "That was _too_ close!"

          "Still think that was an explosion?" Blackwood asked the general.

          "I'm willing to wager it was a rather resourceful colonel," Wilson replied.

          "I hope you're right," Suzanne said, giving Debi a second squeeze.  "But what about this storm, are we safe out here?"

          Wilson nodded, saying, "We're on flat ground.  And the vehicles are relatively safe."

          "Like a metal cage," Harrison explained.  If we're hit, the lightening will run over the surface of the jeep and into the ground.  I just hope Ironhorse can find cover."

          "What about flash floods?" Suzanne asked.

          "He's trained in desert survival," Wilson assured them.  "But this storm's going to erase his tracks.  If that explosion was Paul, he'll head back here once the—"  He paused, almost letting the enemy's identity slip.  "—terrorists are taken care of.  His first priority after neutralizing them will be to get back to Debi.  We'll wait.  He'll come back to us."

          "But what if he's hurt?" Debi asked, upset that the adults weren't doing more to find the colonel.

          "We can't go anywhere in this weather, sweetheart.  And the rain will wash away all the tracks we were following," Blackwood said.  "But—"

          "It'll be fine," Suzanne interrupted him, squeezing the girl's shoulders.  "Paul knows what to do and where he left you.  Uncle Hank's right, all we have to do is wait for him to come back here."

          "But he looked sick," Debi insisted her blue eyes imploring her mother.

          "Sick?" Norton asked, looking up to catch Blackwood's gaze.

          "Kind 'a white, and he was cold," she told them.

          "Heat exhaustion," Wilson said quietly.  "We'll look for him just as soon as we can, all right?" he asked the girl.  If it was too severe, the colonel wouldn't be able to make it back to where he'd left the girl.

          Debi nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The dust storm passed and there was a brief flash of sunlight before the rain reached Ironhorse, the large drops cooling him off and washing away the dirt that felt like it was embedded in his skin.  Stripping off the pieces of his shirt, he wiped his sun-burned face, then cupped his hands, catching as much of the liquid as he could to drink.  Grabbing the assault bag, he climbed out of the wash and started back to where he'd left Debi.

          A slight tingle passed across Ironhorse's skin and he felt the hair on his arms rise.  He glanced around – no trees or boulders nearby.  He dropped the duffel and knelt on it, keeping his feet and knees together.  Bending over, he lowered his head and held onto his legs to keep his hands off the ground – no use making double contact and exposing himself to a greater risk of getting hit.

          A loud clap of thunder accompanied a blinding flash.

 _All I need is to get fried on my way back to Debi_ , he thought as the shock wave pounded past him.  _She'll never forgive me._

          He squeezed his eyes tighter as a second flash exploded and the shock waves from the bolt caught him, knocking him off his feet.

 _At close range the force of a lightning blast is strong enough to crush a man's lungs_ , was the last coherent thought he remembered before sinking into a fractured black void.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He was choking.

          Ironhorse fought for a breath, strangled, coughed, and finally realized he was lying face down in water.  Pulling himself to his hands and knees, he waited for the vertigo to subside before sinking back to sit on the wet desert floor.

          It was raining, hard, and he shivered.  _Damned deserts_ , he thought.  _Hot, cold, dust, lightning…_

          He coughed again, hugging his arms to his chest to ease the pain.  How long had he been out?

          Looking at his watch, he found the face cracked.  _So much for that_ , he concluded.  Grabbing the strap of the duffel, he forced himself to his feet.  He had to get back to Debi.

          Placing one foot in front of the other until his legs found a rhythm, he started forward.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The lightning moved over the three vehicles and after several minutes the monsoon downpour subsided into a steady drizzle.

          "All right," Wilson said.  "Time to go find—"

          "Colonel!" Blackwood yelled, throwing the door open and bolting from the Jeep.

          Suzanne, Debi and Wilson followed him, sprinting to Ironhorse as he continued to stagger forward, unaware of their presence in his single-minded determination to reach the spot where he'd left Debi.

          Ironhorse heard a call, but his eyes refused to focus on the figures rapidly approaching him.  He brought the duffel up to fend off the attack he thought was coming, but it was too heavy and he dropped the bag, stumbling a few more steps closer.  He felt arms encircle his shoulders as his knees finally gave out and he pitched forward.

          Blackwood held onto Ironhorse as they both sank down to the wet sand.  Supporting the colonel's back against his thighs, he pulled the man's shoulder into his chest and cupped the chin as he searched for the pulse point.  "Fast and weak," he announced.

          Suzanne nodded.  "Uncle Hank was right – heat exhaustion.  Let's get him into the Jeep," she instructed.

          General Wilson and Blackwood lifted Paul, carrying him to the vehicle.

          "Here," Norton said, motioning with his hands.  "Put him back here so he's not sitting up.  Guess I can play pillow for a while."

          The two men maneuvered Ironhorse in, Norton helping to arrange Paul against his side.  Suzanne stepped away to talk to one of the soldiers.

          Ironhorse groaned, opened his eyes and closed them immediately as a wave of dizziness hit.  His legs cramped again and he moaned, grinding his teeth together.

          "Here," Wilson said, moving Blackwood aside.  Lifting Ironhorse's leg off the seat he untied the desert boot and pulled it off.  Raising the colonel's leg by the heel, Wilson reached forward to press down on Ironhorse's knee, relieving the cramp.  He repeated the procedure for the other leg, then stepped aside, instructing Blackwood, "Start rubbing his legs and don't stop.  He needs—"

          "To get some salt back into his system," Suzanne said, rejoining them, a canteen in her hand.  Walking around to Norton's side, she passed the canteen to him.  "See if you can get him to sip on that."

          "Water?" Drake asked, accepting the container.

          "With a few salt tablets dissolved in it.  It won't taste good, but he needs it."  She looked around for Debi, finding the girl standing behind the open passenger door, watching.  "Sweetheart, can you sit in the front and help Norton?"

          The girl nodded, walking around to slide past her mother and into the front seat.  Blackwood smiled encouragingly at her as he continued to work on the colonel's legs.

          "He'll be fine," Harrison told her.  "All he needs now is lots of water and salt."

          "Come on, big guy," Norton prodded, shaking Ironhorse's shoulder.  "Time for some brine."

          Ironhorse didn't open his eyes, but when Drake pressed the canteen to his lips, he drank several swallows of the salted water.

          "Just like a fish," Norton said with a smile.

          Blackwood shook his head, but couldn't stop the smile.  "Come on, Colonel, let's hear some complaints over all this fussing," he encouraged.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Colonel?"

          Someone was calling him, but Ironhorse wasn't at all sure he wanted to respond.  For the first time in quite a while he wasn't too hot or too cold, just comfortable lying in the middle of a soft bed instead of choking on dust and slogging through sand.

          "Paul?"

          The voice was more insistent.  Blackwood's voice.  Ironhorse took a deep breath and forced his eyes open.

          The astrophysicist grinned down at him, reminding Ironhorse of a small boy.

          "Took you long enough," Harrison admonished.

          "How are Debi and Norton?"

          "Fine," he assured him, dragging a chair over and taking a seat alongside the bed.  "You, however, were another matter."

          The right side of Ironhorse's mouth tipped into a lopsided grin.  "That storm almost blew away all the bread crumbs I used to mark my trail."

          Leaning forward Blackwood rested a hand on Paul's arm.  "They put some stitches in your leg, treated the sunburn, and pumped several gallons of fluids and salts back into you.  Looks like you're grounded for a few days, Colonel."

          "I'm fine."

          "You were bordering on a case of heat stroke."

          "When am I getting out of here?" Ironhorse asked, ignoring the diagnosis; that much he already knew.

          Blackwood stood.  "They'd prefer to keep you for twenty-four hours, but you can leave now.  I promised the doctor you'd take it easy and we'd bring you back in two days for him to look you over."

          "Doctor—"

          "General Wilson agreed, Colonel, so you'll have to take it up with him.  I didn't think you'd want to miss Debi's birthday party in the morning."

          "Morning?  What time is it?"

          "Little after ten… p.m.  We found you about four-thirty, the chopper met us at five and flew you in here to Luke.  You've been sleeping about five hours.  You can stay here until morning, or I'll drive you back now."

          "Get me out of here," Ironhorse said, struggling to sit up.

          "Easy," Blackwood said, standing quickly to help.

          "I'm fine, just get me something to put on," the soldier grumbled, but he couldn't suppress the smile.  "Can't miss Debi's party, now can I."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The Arizona sun, sneaking past the bedroom curtains, woke Ironhorse around five in the morning.  It took him a moment to realize he wasn't still in the hospital.  He vaguely remembered staggering out to the waiting jeep in the surgical scrubs the astrophysicist had pilfered from somewhere.

          He took a deep breath and felt along his ribs.  They weren't as painful as he'd expected, but the muscles in his back, shoulders and legs were more than a little put out by the way they'd been treated.  Well, he'd had sore muscles before.  The four by four pad of gauze on his upper right leg hid the jagged cut, and it only throbbed slightly, like his head.  All in all he was damned lucky.

          A soft, tentative knock at his door stopped the physical assessment.  "Yes?" he said in a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone else.

          Expecting Blackwood, he was surprised when Debi slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.  "And what are you doing up so late, young lady?" he asked, his eyes immediately searching for any sign of injuries.  Other than a rosy sunburn on her face and arms, she looked fine.

          Debi proceeded to the bed and sat down.  "I wanted to be sure you were okay," she said in a serious tone.  "They wouldn't let me see you last night."

          "I'm afraid I wasn't up to much more than sleeping last night," he explained.  "How are you feeling?"

          "I'm okay," she said, studying the patterns in the southwestern comforter on the bed.

          "Really?" he prodded, pulling himself up further.  It was clear that something was bothering the girl.

          The blue eyes looked up and met his black.  "Why did those men want to hurt us?" she asked with thirteen-year-old bluntness.

          Ironhorse leaned back against the oak headboard.  "I don't really know, Debi," he said.  "They want to make the world a very different place than it is, and they see all of us as in their way.  They don't hate you, or Norton, or me anymore than anyone else who isn't one of them.  Does that make any sense to you?"

          She shook her head.

          "I guess it shouldn't.  I don't know why people are like that, but they are sometimes."

          "I thought they caught you," she said, sniffing to hold back the tears that filled her eyes.  "It was dark and hot and dusty in there and you didn't come back, and—"  A sob choked off the rest of the words.

          "I'm sorry," the colonel said softly.  "I wanted to come back sooner, but it took me a while to get away from them."  He extended has hand, "Come here."

          Debi climbed up on the bed and lay on top of the covers, snuggling next to him.  Ironhorse circled her back with his arm and held her thin shoulder.

          "You did very good out there, Deb.  Just like a real soldier.  I'm very proud of you."

          "Really?" she asked, rubbing her hand over her eyes before reaching out to hug one arm across his mid-section.

          "Yes."

          "You knew about my party, didn't you?"

          "Yes," he said, slightly wary.

          "Mom said they're going to do my party today," she said, then yawned.

          "So I heard.  That's why Dr. Blackwood brought me back last night, so I wouldn't miss it," he explained, tugging her sleep-tangled ponytail.

          "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

          Ironhorse bent his head down and kissed the top of her head.  "That all depends."

          "Mom said you're going to have to take it easy for a few days."

          "She did, did she?"

          "Uh-huh.  Do you think maybe we could wait to see some of those Indian ruins you told me about?  So you could take me?"

          "They're out in the desert," he warned.  "Is that okay?"

          She nodded against his shoulder.

          "All right, then, maybe in a day or two when your mother and Dr. Blackwood let me out of the house.  It'll be a late birthday present, okay?"

          "Thank you," Debi said, starting to drift off.  "I got the best birthday present," she whispered.  "You and Norton were okay…"

          Ironhorse smiled at the words and listened to the soft breathing of the youngster, letting it draw him back to sleep as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Have you seen Debi?" Suzanne asked, entering the kitchen and steering directly for the coffee maker.

          Harrison looked up from the file he was reading and shook his head.  "Not yet.  Isn't she still asleep?"

          "She's not in her room…" Suzanne said, trailing off as she took a sip and set the cup down.  "But I bet I know whose room she is in."

          Blackwood stood and followed the woman to Ironhorse's room.  Cracking the door, they found Debi curled up next to the colonel, sound asleep.

          Suzanne shook her head.  "Happy birthday, sweetheart," she whispered.  Harrison laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.  "And thank you, Paul," she added.

          "That's our colonel," Harrison whispered in her ear.  "Strong, determined… and a complete teddy bear around Debi."

          "And I wouldn't trade either of them," Suzanne said, pulling the door shut with a smile.


End file.
